Chapter Text
The feeling of not being on twenty hearts always makes him prickly, irritated. It's an unpleasantly empty feeling in his chest, one he's always in a hurry to get away from at the start of every season of Lifesteal.
Clownpierce was known to be scary, deadly – the deadliest player, so few people know he's not always been like this. This is just how lifesteal’s changed him. To change is to adapt, and Lifesteal changes people so drastically that no one recognizes themselves with each season that passes.
Clownpierces' need for hearts was never as prominent as it had been the last few seasons. Being on ten hearts no longer felt natural. He needed to be on more, on twenty – that's whats standard now. He feels weird, uncomfortable, not safe in his own skin when he's at any less.
But nobody gets this. Everyone assumes he's no more than a bloodthirsty murderer. He's never tried to quench this itch for twenty hearts in a different way to his usual, he just does what feels right and kills. That's all he knows.
Nothing exhilarates him more than the itch and tear at the inside of his thoracic cavity when they're all gathering at the middle of spawn, his peers armourless and excited for the new season to begin. The horrible pumping of his only ten hearts, the shaking of his ribcage and his restlessness to get to twenty before the end of the week, just to stop feeling so restless, nervous energy pushing him close to ripping his chest open with his claws and itching that awful feeling.
…
When he stands above the final hollow corpse, feeling the protective rush of twenty hearts flowing through him, Clown feels as though he can finally take the deep breath he hasn't been able to since the season's first day.
He doesn't even bother to loot the remains, choosing to walk away and wallow in the full feeling in his chest, the absence of that scratching feeling making him feel complete, and finally at peace on Lifesteal.
But he won't be fooled, because…
..peace doesn't fully exist on Lifesteal.